


Ode to Pink Shorts

by asightea



Category: Hannibal (TV), Manhunter (1986)
Genre: Clothing Kink, Flashback, Flashbacks, Light Impact Play, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Will’s Pink Shorts from Manhunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asightea/pseuds/asightea
Summary: They were the kind of article of clothing you never remembered buying or being given, they’d just ended up in your closet. Only meant to rear their ugly head when you were close to laundry day.These, however, edged more on the side of lingerie. They had a satiny texture and were buttery to the touch. The fact he’d found them at the bottom of a box of clothing Hannibal had ordered for him… was suspicious, to say the least.~In which Will revisits Hannibal’s favorite pair of pink shorts.
Relationships: Molly Graham/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 137





	Ode to Pink Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lovely lilac shorts from Manhunter. They go between described as pink or lilac, feel free to debate in the comments below. 
> 
> Warning: Will does suffer a severe flashback in this, if you would like to skip it i’ve marked its beginning and end with ‘~*~’

Will hadn’t honestly remembered he’d had them. They were sitting at the back of some mothball ridden drawer, forgotten with his other summer clothes. Molly might’ve even tossed them, thinking they were too old and worn to be of use. He wondered if she’d thrown out all of his clothes, save for her favorite sweater of his she always stole. She’d kept a worn Tampa Bay Lightning jersey hiding in the back of their closet, too large to be originally hers, and sighed when Will found it after looking for a lost box of fly gear. They had laughed at the obnoxious white patterns that adorned the sleeves and belly. They must’ve signified lightning bolts, but really looked like stickers 12-year-old boys put on their skateboards to resemble flames. 

“’90s really were a different time, huh?” He’d chuckled, right before Wally would see the gaudy jersey, fall in love, and rip it from Will’s grasp. Never to be seen again, other than on nights Wally couldn’t get to bed. The only thing that soothed him was the hideous shirt that ended at his knees when draped over him. 

Something in Will ached at the memory of how he’d clutched that shirt in his sleep. Small, chubby hands that couldn’t help but remind him of his own, even if the shirt was Wally’s birth father's. 

But here, he was clutching something part of him also found as an odd fashion statement. Pink shorts, his originals had been boating shorts left over from the days he worked on boats with his dad. They were the kind of article of clothing you never remembered buying or being given, they’d just ended up in your closet. Only meant to rear their ugly head when you were close to laundry day.

These, however, edged more on the side of lingerie. They had a satiny texture and were buttery to the touch. The fact he’d found them at the bottom of a box of clothing Hannibal had ordered for him… was suspicious, to say the least. 

The man ducked his head into the room, wiping his hands from preparing dinner, the smallest smile coloring his features. One could easily mistake it for genuine curiosity, free of any mischief.

But Will knew better, and he quirked a brow as he held the offending article in Hannibal's direction. “Thought you said we were just getting necessities.” 

Maroon eyes crinkled at the corners, and it would be as close to a guilty look as he would ever get. 

“I’d imagined you needed something for when you’re tending the garden.” 

Will tried to not let his eyes bulge out of his head at the image. These would definitely leave no room for anyone’s imagination, active or not. His eyes wouldn’t be the only thing bulging.

“What to you says ‘gardening’ about pink, satin short shorts?” 

Hannibal’s smile veered into cat ate the canary territory as he stepped forward, easily taking up the other end of the fabric and rolling it between his fingers. “It is linen crushed velvet, alternatively known as ‘Summer Velvet’.” He smiled, releasing the fabric and straightening. “You, of course, have no obligation to wear them. I can return them with the clothes you find do not fit.” He said simply, scanning quickly over the dress shirts and slacks that decorated the bed alongside the box. 

Will suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

~ 

Hannibal knew it was very rare when Will would get free time to himself.

With Jack dragging him to crime scenes at all hours, even those he was not responsible for, it did little to help the already poor habits Will had in terms of self-care.

So when Will admitted in one of their sessions he’d needed to clear up debris around his home, and was finally getting time to do it, Hannibal was thrilled. Nothing like a good spring cleaning to help center the mind and ease some of the tension Will had always hiding in his shoulders and back. 

Hannibal was careful to sparingly touch, but his stolen glances and careful observations of the man were greedy in nature. 

That’s how he’d found himself driving down a thickly forested Virginia road, sweet smells of spring easily invading his Bentley. The promise of summer smelled like warm grass, still-damp earth, and abundant pine that never failed to cling to him when he made the trek out. The smell of Will’s escape from society settled something deep in his chest. 

What he had not expected, upon arriving and being greeted by excited dogs, was a half-naked Will, bent over with his rear pointed towards Hannibal beside the house. Legs bare and cheeks cupped nicely by pink shorts that covered only an inch more of what briefs might; part of Hannibal suspected there were no underwear between the shorts and Will, with the snug fit of the fabric. 

Working his way through the dogs as they bounded and wrestled in the yard, he’d stopped short and idly wondered what he’d done right to be blessed with the sight.

There was a beat, as if Will took a moment to process a disturbance in the air, before he straightened and looked over his shoulder. Blinking, he jumped slightly as he took in Hannibal’s presence.

“Oh, Hannibal. Hi,” He breathed, clapping his gloved hands together to send dust flying through beams of sunlight surrounding him. 

Blue eyes took in the man, clad in what would be called his version of ‘casual’ attire, a sweater vest tucked still into a tailored maroon houndstooth jacket, and matching slacks. In tow, glass containers and a thermos to boot. Will couldn’t stop his small smile at the sight, even if he tried. “What brings you out here?”

Something moved behind Hannibal’s eyes, too quick to catch as he politely appraised Will before smiling charmingly. “I wanted to enable your choice in taking time for yourself.” He glanced away, brushing nonexistent dirt from his shoulder. 

Will chuckled, kicking the dirt before squinting up at the man. “By no longer making it time for myself?” He crossed his arms, smile shy of shit eating. 

“Every hard worker needs a good meal to keep them going,” He smiled back easily, lifting the hand that held the food. “I’d hoped you would not mind the company.” He said, as if Will had any choice in letting him stay.

~ 

The next time Hannibal would see those lilac shorts, it would not even be Will’s fault. 

A soft wind carried the smell of salt, sunkissed waves, and aquatic life through Hannibal’s hair. He sighed softly, clutching the railing in front of him as he swayed with the turquoise waves below. The smooth white surface of the bow was clean, and uncomplicated beneath his loafers. 

He’d recognized this dream, being on a small yacht out somewhere warm, alone with just the cradling waves. The ocean a mirror on the few emotions he did experience.

A new addition, however, was the discarded pair of jogging shoes, just in the corner of his eye. They were dirtied, assuredly not reflecting their original color, as they were now a brown that suggested they were more dirt than shoe. His eyes narrowed, before he heard a loud clank and a chuckle from the cabin behind him.

“Seems we’re out of wine, you’ll have to settle for my stuff.” Will smiled, padding barefoot towards Hannibal. He stopped short, offering a glass of bourbon with an inquisitive look. “What?”

Hannibal openly gawked, as his eyes trailed up surprisingly tan legs to stop at the pink fabric that clutched Will within an inch of his life. Had they been that tight the first time he saw them? 

Will shifted under his gaze, and Hannibal blinked, ready to recover his manners before he remembered this was his dream, and he let his features slide into the hunger he normally fought to hide from the man’s attention. 

His eyes drifted up, and something in him sung under the surface at the apprehension on Will’s features. Hannibal took the offered glass, tilting his head inquisitively, as he drank in the shorter man greedily. He wore a loose-fitting cream-colored polo, collar half-popped, as if he had yet to notice after throwing it on. 

“You look close to eating me.” Will chuckled, tone only half-joking, trying to dispel his apprehension as he leaned against the railing next to Hannibal. 

“I have yet to decide on that.” Hannibal practically _purred_. Will frowned, blushing as he blinked down at his drink. 

Hannibal hooked a finger in the elastic of his waistband, smirking down his nose as Will yelped in surprise when being tugged flush against him. 

“Uh, uhh, Hannibal I-” 

He moved to bury his face in the man’s neck, breathing in deeply and grinning as his back arched and a shudder ran through the empath. No terrible aftershave, no deodorant or even dogs to mask the smell. He smelled purely of the sweet, earthy complexity of Will Graham; no distractions. Hannibal’s hands moved up to his shoulders and it took realizing his mouth was watering to prevent him from biting into the delicious scent, which now had the lovely tang of arousal mixing in.

“Mm…” He hummed, replacing his bite with a kiss, which seemed to still make Will react as he pressed harder into the taller man’s chest. 

“Hannibal...” Will murmured, clenching Hannibal’s own polo softly, as he traced his nose up the other’s neck, their faces mere centimeters away from each other. 

Blue eyes stared longingly at Hannibal’s lips as their breaths mingled, and his hands moved to grip Will’s waist, leaning in before-

Hannibal’s eyes snapped open, and he stared dully at the few shadows on his ceiling, sighing softly. 

Interesting, he wasn’t often one to deny himself luxuries, but it seemed even his subconscious would not allow indulgence of Will Graham. How cruel.

~ 

Shudders wracked Will’s frame as he stepped into the inviting well of Hannibal’s front door. Frowning, he glanced behind him to no longer see the stag that had followed- or maybe it was guiding?- him here.

Blinking, he looked up at the grand door, something off about the situation, but it only had one clear conclusion. 

He’d raised his hand to knock, and the door fell away from his fist before he could touch it. A disheveled Hannibal filled the frame, in pajamas and a robe that gave the impression of a slightly softened version of his normal suits. 

“I-” 

“Will, are you alright?” Hannibal frowned, opening his door more to usher him in. 

Will blinked, his head spinning as he heard the door close behind him. “I um, I don’t-”

“You’re shivering. Here,” Hannibal said, smooth as silk, without any indication of something being off. Warmth wrapped around his shoulders, which he now realized were bare, and he felt the chattering of his jaw taper off. 

“Thanks.” Was all he could manage, before he was being steered through his not-therapist’s home, frowning when he was sat at a corner of his dining room table. 

“I’ll start some tea for you, one moment.” Hannibal breathed, leaving Will to clutch the thick fabric- finding now it was one of Hannibal’s coats. Looking up, he blinked questioningly at a wall of greenery with dark woods swaying behind it. He couldn’t tell if he was inside or outside, and he chuckled softly as he wondered if Hannibal somehow made his way into his dreams. 

_Welcome to the madness._

“Did you say something?” Hannibal asked, setting a platter down to the table, breaking Will out of his reverie.

“Uh, no.” He blinked, frowning down at his lap. Under the jacket, pink fabric peaked out against his thigh. He remembered telling himself he’d do laundry tomorrow, as he pulled them on before crawling into bed. Was it tomorrow already?

Liquid softly poured and china clanked as it was set in front of him. 

“Will, I need you to tell me what you last remember,” Hannibal spoke, though no urgency pressed his tone. 

He moved his hands up to cup the warmth of his teacup, smiling softly as another Hannibal painted it as his counterpart in his head. “Um, how did you know I was here?” He squinted up at this Hannibal, who pulled the seat out beside Will. He realized it was the head of the table, and Will wondered if he always clutched at the need for control like that. 

Hannibal paused a moment after sitting, before taking his own teacup in his hands. “I’d heard your engine outside.” He took a drink, and horror trickled down Will’s spine.

“I _drove_?” His eyes finally landed on Hannibal’s face, but none of Will’s terror seemed to affect the man.

“What do you remember last, Will?” Hannibal asked, still conversationally, and Will frowned at his collar.

“Going to sleep,” A laugh bubbled from his throat; an almost choked sound. “I can’t even tell if I’m awake now.” 

He brought the tea to his lips, it smelled like some sort of green tea and soothed going down. 

A soft sigh escaped Hannibal, and it grated on Will, his self-consciousness finally catching up with him. 

“What time is it?” He asked, knowing he would likely regret it.

“Too late for you to drive safely home alone,” Hannibal answered, leaning over to brush cool fingertips against the back of Will’s hand, pushing it up to encourage another sip. “I’d like you to finish your tea before trying to get some rest here.” He soothed, always a suggestion, never demanding. 

Will took another sip, grimacing at the idea of taking up space in Hannibal’s home. “I’ll be fine, I’ve already-”

“Already made the trek out here, and likely exposed yourself to the elements too long. I have plenty of room, and would sleep better knowing you are taken care of, Will.”

The sincerity in Hannibal’s voice panged something in his chest. He did not want to hold it up too closely to the light for examination. Instead, exhaustion and the want for someone else to be in control washed over him, and he sighed softly in defeat. 

“Okay, thank you.” He murmured, taking another drink as he adjusted the coat that was slipping from his shoulder.

He ended up with a fresh shirt, dark-grey cotton that was thicker and simultaneously softer than any he’d ever owned. He curiously was not offered a pair of sleep pants, but honestly wearing Hannibal’s clothes at all felt too invasive already. 

He’d imagined a couch and throw blanket in his future, but found with little surprise that Hannibal had an already prepared guest room. It was minimally decorated, walls a cool grey with just a touch of the house’s style. It gave the feeling of neutral ground, and Will was briefly reminded of Hannibal’s office. It was hard to focus on anything but the bed, with the thick comforter that was overturned; it beckoned him, promising to evict the chill that had seemed to seep into his core. 

Hannibal appeared in the doorway beside him, carrying a thick towel and small dish with two white pills resting on it. 

“If you would like a shower in the morning, the restroom is down the hall. I also brought something to help you sleep.” He stepped forward, moving to place the towel on the bed. 

A blush crept up the back of Will’s neck, and he rubbed at it awkwardly. “Didn’t take you much for a pill pusher, Doctor Lecter.”

The smallest smile tugged at his lips as he straightened. “I find moderation to be most effective in instances such as this.” He then turned his full gaze onto Will. “But please, do not allow me to ‘push’ you into anything you do not want to do.”

Will shifted under his gaze, swallowing when Hannibal took a step towards him. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you,” He smiled, shifting as he looked between Hannibal and the bed. 

There was a beat, before Hannibal smiled as he instead moved towards the door. “Well, do let me know if you require anything else. I’m just across the hall.” 

Will nodded, keeping that smile as Hannibal closed the door behind him. Why he felt the sudden need to cover himself, he was unsure.

Hannibal knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep with Will under his roof. He’d resigned himself to reading in bed, paging through The Essence of Alan Watts, a reading a client had recommended. He’d found the man's takes on death particularly intriguing.

He’d made his way through a portion of the book when he heard the groaning of his floorboards outside his door, followed by muted muttering. Closing the book, he stood slowly, at once confirming Will went to bed without the pills.

Peeking his head out into the hall, he saw the man stopped, frozen in front of the samurai suit at the heart of the hall. Something in Hannibal tightened, as memories flooded his mind of his younger self in a similar position. Was the artifact's significance that palpable, or did the younger man's subconscious somehow sense it's sentimental value? Will Graham became more curious to him by the second, it seemed. 

He padded softly into the hall, knowing each spot that would make the house announce his presence, and actively avoided them. He stopped behind Will, looking at the suit lit dimly from over his shoulder. He made no sound, curious as to what the empath would do. 

They stood in silence, moments stretching on, before Will turned abruptly and ran face-first into Hannibal's chest. The older man blinked, arms moving up to catch Will by the shoulders, but a closer look showed Will's eyes were still closed.

Close to waking him, Hannibal squeezed him softly, before abruptly letting his hands fall to his side. He realized this was the closest Hannibal could observe Will as he acted naturally, before stepping out of the shorter man's path. 

Will paused, eyes still closed, a confused look crossing his features. Before long, he sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping, and he moved to pad down the hall- and straight into Hannibal’s room. 

Hannibal couldn’t help but blink in amazement before shortly following. 

Will wasted no time, however. He sat on Hannibal’s bed, tugged his shirt over his shoulders- a product Hannibal was sure of muscle memory, pulled back the covers, and nestled his way into where he had just been reading. 

Hannibal stood in the doorway, and slowly resolved to turn out the light when Will grumbled loudly and pressed his face into Hannibal’s pillow, taking a deep breath and humming softly. The older man froze, and something in his chest jumped at the sight, enraptured as Will proceeded to bury his face in the pillow, humming as he also ground his hips against the sheets. The bedding fell around his thighs so those salacious shorts cupped his cheeks and gave Hannibal all the better show. 

Hannibal had to wonder if Will had been reacting to his smell, and though he knew it would never be to the extent he experienced, the reactions he gave here were quite damning.

“Hannibal,” Will _moaned_ , sending a current of electricity through him. Will clutched the pillow just as hard as Hannibal clutched the door frame he stood in. The arousal his dreams cooked up had been a _hint_ of the actual smell as it now hit him in flooding waves. His sheets would smell like their scents mingling, and Hannibal took a deep breath to school himself. Though, it was made all the more difficult as that brought more of Will’s smell in to stain his nose and back of throat. At once he wanted more, wanted the actual man in his mouth. 

He hadn’t realized he stepped forward to act on it until Will stilled against his sheets, before abruptly going limp against them. Frowning, he breathed again, but did not recognize the particular scent semen left behind in the air. It seemed Hannibal’s subconscious wasn’t the only one to prevent indulgence lately. 

Staying until Will snored softly, and he felt he had some semblance of control, he moved to turn out the lamp on his side table. A hand shot out, gripping his wrist and making him freeze, before it released him and slid down to brush their fingertips together softly.

Something in Hannibal’s chest clashed at the intimacy of the touch, even if he was the only one able to experience it. He gritted his jaw, and before he knew it, he had rounded the bed and tucked himself into the other side. He curled his arm under his head, telling himself he would watch until he knew he had to leave, to prevent Will from suspecting he had done anything but allowed the man to sleep in his bed. 

In the morning, Will would wake, and awkwardly stumble his way through the vast breakfast Hannibal had prepared for them both. Will would blush, Hannibal would politely not notice, acting as if wanting to trade bedrooms in the middle of the night was the most common of occurrences. 

Hannibal could smell the mixed feelings that warred inside of the empath, even to the last moment when he sent Will off with a thermos of coffee, a new shirt, and a pair of slacks that edged on this side of too large. He had placated Will’s protests with the assurance he could bring the clothing back during their next session. 

Though really, he thought to himself as he watched Will from a window after closing his front door, Will had already left enough for Hannibal to delight himself in. New knowledge of the man, ripe for contemplation. He had an extra pep in his step that day, though none of his patients could particularly put their finger on as to why. 

~ 

Will left the catacombs feeling a particular emptiness, wondering if Hannibal really had heard him, or if he was just hallucinating as he had with Abigail.

The streets of Italy were empty as he found his way back to his hotel room. The echoes of his steps against cobblestone felt like an apt soundtrack, and he felt their weight up to the point he stripped down and climbed into the shower. 

Breathing out, he pressed his face against the cool tile wall, letting the water run over his head and down his back. He wished the tight feeling in his chest would wash away with it.

His hand moved up to brush the scar that still tugged at his skin when he moved too quickly, feelings unraveling quickly in his mind. Disappointment that he could not see Hannibal, relief that he didn’t have to. He didn’t know what he would say, what he _could_ say. 

His mind had held off drawing up the millions of potential conversations, Abigail being kind to take up the space for it in his head. Biting his lip, he pushed against the sorrow of watching her bleed out, again. He couldn’t break down, not yet. 

He shut the water off after scrubbing the grime from his limbs, before stumbling into the room. He huffed as he ripped the blanket he slept with last night from the corner chair. Hallucinations didn’t need beds to sleep in. 

He dragged on a pair of shorts, before his head hit the pillows. Another pang of loss ricocheted through him as he could still smell Abigail's hair on the pillowcase, despite her never being here, never having left that kitchen in Baltimore. 

Inky darkness surrounded him, and he swam in it for the longest time, fighting and choking on it before finally being content to be lost there. His eyes only flickered open when he heard the whisper of the wind. Rolling over, he looked to the window that was left cracked open, the curtain waving softly at him in the breeze. 

Will swallowed, wondering what his next step was supposed to be.

“Hello, Will.” 

Will shot up out of bed, but was quickly pinned back down by a heavy force. He grunted as his arms were captured, the pressing force lining his body lithely. 

“Did you miss me?” A familiar accent purred in his ear, and he stilled, before struggling even harder. 

“Hannibal, let me go!” He growled, hissing as his thrashing tugged on his scar. 

“What, like you let me go?” Hannibal hummed, pressing more firmly against Will to the point his lungs could hardly expand. 

“Hannibal, I-“

“Shhh,” He cooed, and a shudder ran down Will’s spine. What from, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly.

Maroon eyes pulled back, hovering over Will and glinting in the little light that filtered in from the street. “You followed me here to warn me, and put yourself back in the crossfire.” 

His tone was almost pleased, despite its chastising wording. Will’s muscles tensed as he felt that palm brush down his cheek once again, his gut clenching in fear of feeling the bite of Hannibal’s blade too. Another grunt escaped him at the protest of his skin. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you go so easily, did you?” Hannibal smiled, moving to lean back with his thighs still framing Will’s. When he was sure Will wouldn’t fight him again, he also released his wrists. 

Will’s fists clenched above his head, but fear did most of the work of pinning him now, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“What do you want?” He nearly spat, and Hannibal chuckled as his eyebrows raised. 

“Now, Will, I know you are more astute than that. Why else would you wear these?” 

His fingers moved down to trace the hem of his shorts; pink, the ones he’d caught Hannibal staring at him in what felt like a lifetime ago.

“I-I-“

“I believe we are past excuses and sidestepping now, don’t you?” He asked, fingers moving up to brush the smile on his belly. The shiver he felt now he knew was not from fear. 

He frowned, and turned his head to the window, fighting the burning feeling of his cheeks. Surprise filled him as Hannibal hummed softly. 

“My clever, stubborn boy. You’d fight me to the end, wouldn’t you?” 

His jaw clenched, and he refused to look the man in the eye. Hannibal sighed, almost wistfully, and moved to brush his palm up Will’s bare chest, tracing his collarbone before easily sliding his hands around his throat. 

Will gasped, thrashing as Hannibal just squeezed harder, the smirk on the man's lips never wavering. “Perhaps it’s best if I put you out of your misery now, then, hm?” He said, tone icy as Will shuddered and tried to buck him off. As the edges of his vision blurred, he panted, before something in him cooed at the idea of finally giving up to that darkness he clawed his way out of. Never feeling pain, or sorrow, or anger, again. 

At once, he let go, going lax under Hannibal, looking up at him with clear eyes as he nodded. 

Hannibal tilted his head curiously, and just as the pulsing vein in Will’s head felt it may burst, he let go. Will gasped, but didn’t get the chance to steady his breathing before Hannibal crushed his lips to his own. 

Groaning, Will’s hands shot up to clutch Hannibal’s hair. A feral sound rumbled in Hannibal's chest as they crashed together, his hands moving down to clutch Will’s hips as they pressed up against him. 

Will wasn’t sure if they were fighting or fucking, in how their bodies clutched and scratched and struggled, all he knew was the aching need he felt as Hannibal moved his mouth to his neck and shoulder, kissing and biting, sucking marks of claim into his flesh. 

“God, Hannibal…” He breathed, wrapping his legs around his waist, rolling his hips up to let him feel his need through the thin fabric of his shorts. Hannibal shuddered, before growling as he moved quickly down Will’s body, peppering kisses and bites before stopping at his scar. 

Will squirmed as he looked down at him, his normally pristine hair falling into his face and only making Will ache more when he dragged his bottom lip along the soft, still-pink smile. The look in his eyes showed pure hunger. Will’s cock throbbed in his shorts at the image of carnage that mouth could create, blood covering the man's face for a few flickers as a car drove by outside. A thought in the distance of Will's mind questioning if Hannibal meant to kill him a different way. 

Hannibal moved his hands to massage and squeeze his hips roughly. Will’s hips rolled up, and he panted as he moved his hand up into Hannibal’s hair once again. 

“Tell me, Will.” Hannibal purred, kissing and nibbling him like he could hardly stand to not taste Will for more than a few seconds. “What do you want?” 

Will’s toes curled as his thighs quivered, he felt like every touch was flaying him alive, more raw as Hannibal unraveled him so _easily._ He couldn’t find it in himself to stop him. 

“Hannibal…” He breathed, pushing his fingers through that hair, wanting equally to rip it out as he did to caress it. 

Hannibal's eyes were cutting as he gazed back up at Will. Catching his hand, he squeezed it hard enough to make Will gasp. 

“What do you want, Will?” He asked, something in the tone fervent, and it was the tipping point for him. 

“You-”

Will gasped as he sat up, the light in the room blaring now, as he blinked and shuddered. Looking down at his hand, he flexed it, expecting the leftover pain from Hannibal, but finding none. He felt discomfort as the cloth that clung to him made him groan, and he kicked off his sheets before padding back into the shower. Dealing with the kind of mess he hadn’t made since he was in high school. 

In the shower, he resolved that if he couldn’t see Hannibal here, maybe he could see Hannibal in his past. 

~ 

“I'm just wondering,” Will started, making Hannibal's brows raise over their breakfast layout in their sunny garden.

He smiled charmingly. “If you think you’re sly, in your passive-aggressive temptation.”

Hannibal's eyes narrowed as he brought his mimosa to his lips, looking out over the Senegal shore that Will still had yet to pronounce correctly. They at least spoke French, which he knew in passing from New Orleans. He was swiftly reminded just how in passing that truly was upon their arrival. 

“Do you think your road to damnation starts with velvet shorts, Will?” Hannibal grinned. Well, not really grinned, but in that way that was basically grinning for the man. 

Will chuckled, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “We’re far past that, I’m afraid.” He moved to swipe up a piece of toast, watching through the glass tabletop as Hannibal stretched out and crossed his ankles around Will’s.

“Then I see no reason to balk at them.” The smile that mainly touched his eyes warmed, and part of Will heard the ‘dear’ that was meant to follow the sentence. Hannibal, however, was being careful with him. They’d only just recovered from their injuries enough to not seem half-dead after killing the dragon. 

Only the smallest of touches, just like before; slowly invading, and yet consuming Will more thoroughly than just biting the bullet would. 

It was driving him up the wall.

His sigh was a little more forced than he liked, but he followed Hannibal's line of sight out to the ocean. He drank in the people dotting the beach, the turquoise surf pushing and pulling at them, making them laugh and squeal in surprise. He could faintly hear an inverted steel drum being played happily in the distance. 

He let the calm settle him, but he’d already had ideas churning in his head. 

Later, when he was by himself, he would recognize that he was playing right into Hannibal’s hand. The man gave him the shorts like he placed a chess piece on a board. Always calculating, always controlling the game in one way or another. Will long ago gave up trying to outsmart the game master. 

Instead, he was tirelessly resourceful, and used the tools given in ways that always left Hannibal in awe.

This piece was no different. 

He would garden in them, careful to not dirty the fabric that was definitely splurged on, possibly even tailored specifically to cling to Will, giving all the better view. He would bend, and crouch, and hum, and sway his hips as he worked. Always with his back pointed to Hannibal, wherever Will presumed him to be.

He would also wear them to bed, smiling at Hannibal over his toothbrush as their elbows brushed and hips bumped in the small bathroom they shared. Something in him warmed at the domesticity of the daily activity.

The tipping point, however, was not something Will expected. In a style that seemed to be a pattern for them, it was more like a nosedive.

Will shuddered as blood sprayed across his face. Hannibal had offered the option of a clear suit, but Will outright refused. Hannibal may have been more excessive in the movements of his blade, but when he glanced to Will, the man's blue eyes shed the shock and only looked all the more hungry. 

Hannibal nearly preened as he wrapped his arm around the large man's hemorrhaging throat. He stepped back to drag the man with him, blood pouring down his chest and covering Hannibal’s inner arm. He was only their second victim, but one that Will chose himself, a killer that preyed on small local children.

Will stepped after them, his arm coming up to smear the blood from his mouth, dragging it down his throat. A pearly white grin replaced the red, and something in Hannibal _quaked_ as blue eyes flickered between him, and their prey.

The man clutched at Hannibal’s arm feebly, dull nails getting no purchase as he choked on his own blood in attempts to breathe, to scream.

Will was quick in his movements, the grunt from the man shaking both him and Hannibal, slamming them against the wall as Will buried a curved blade into the man's gut, and ripped up to stop just under Hannibal's arm.

The wet sound that followed was glorious, and the scream Hannibal felt trapped against his elbow shuddered between them like a thunderclap. 

Blue met maroon, their breaths fast as the man slumped heavily between them in Hannibal’s arms. 

“Will,” Hannibal breathed, but Will was already at work, hand moving up the ribs and under to feel the last beats of the man's pounding heart, before it slowed to a complete stop. 

The look Will gave him was like a flash of lightning, and Hannibal felt as if he was looking in a mirror; seeing the power, awe, and hunger he felt written all over the empaths face. He was a roiling sea, a roaring dragon flapping his wings as it’s cut down, two halves finally coming together as they toppled over a cliffside. 

“Beautiful,” Hannibal murmured, not remembering letting their victim go, or stepping forward. His hand simply cupped Will’s face, red smearing into white, and making blue eyes shine like beacons. 

Will smiled, leaned his face into the touch the way a cat might. Something in Hannibal ached, and he wanted to rip into Will so he might step inside, make a home out of him as they easily became one. 

Instead, Will reached up to wrap his hand around the back of his neck, tugging him down until Hannibal was caught in a hungry kiss. 

He growled, feeling tacky fingers push through his hair before he turned them and pushed Will up against the wall. Freeing him from the kiss only long enough to let the shorter man gasp, before he was on him again. Their lips crushed and clasped, their hands raked and clutched, and it was a fluid dance of easy rhythm before Will gripped Hannibal’s hand abruptly when it reached for the button of his pants.

“H-Hannibal, um…” He murmured, flushing under the scarlet covering him as he ducked his head.

Hannibal frowned softly, looking at the other with curious amusement.

“Not that I don't want to,” He started, having seen something on Hannibal’s face, perhaps. His eyebrows raised. 

“Your hands are just… um..” He stuttered, and how Hannibal's vicious creature and this fumbling man were wrapped up in the same body, Hannibal could wonder forever. 

Fate would save Will the explanation, however, as a glance to their hands showed a familiar pink fabric sticking out of the top of the pants he was meant to be undoing. 

The rosy sliver of fabric made him smile, and god, Hannibal could eat Will alive then and there. 

“I see,” He said instead, knowing how protective of stains in the fabric Will was. It warmed something in Hannibal, for them to be cherished so, even if they were currently denying him hard-won privileges to Will. 

Their desire would be hard to swallow, especially with the looks and passing touches they gave as they worked to clean up and dispose of their victim. There would be no grandiose display of him, his death was what he was owed; quiet, and meaningless. It served a purpose. 

The only trace left behind was sitting in a cooler, wrapped in plastic and buried in ice. 

“Shit,” Will muttered behind him, back at the house. Hannibal turned to see his dark pants pulled down, and a spot of blood that had soaked in the pink fabric just shy of inside his thigh. 

Hannibal sighed softly, still riding the high as they stripped in their bathroom. “It is my fault, I should have had us change fully.” As if he could contain himself if he watched a naked, bloodied Will scrubbing himself in their victim’s shower.

“Here I thought you just had a thing for sink baths.” He smirked, though the disappointment in his eyes was unmistakable. 

Hannibal knelt, Will blinking down at him as he slid two fingers under the fabric and pinned the spot lightly between them and his thumb. “I believe I can get this out.” As if he could not simply buy Will another pair, or hundreds more. But that was not the point to Will, and he knew that.

The look Will gave him was something between relief, desire, and fear. God, if Hannibal could freeze him like that. He would draw the image later, he resolved. 

He moved forward to nuzzle the man’s hip. His hand moved up and under to cup his cheek, the soft velvet and plump flesh against his skin _exquisite_.

He could feel Will getting hard again, and he smirked. “Though I may have you soil them further before I have the chance to clean them.” 

Will’s look when he glanced up was anything but disappointed, with his lip caught between his teeth. 

Hannibal's returning smile was predatory. He kissed and nibbled Will’s hip, the man’s breath catching when his mouth brushed along his smile of a scar. 

“Sensitive?” Hannibal hummed, one palm squeezing his ass while the other teased the tent in the velvet. 

Will’s blush was captivating, his hand laced lightly in Hannibal's hair, but his eyes were flitting around the room. 

“I uh.. mmf… yeah..” 

Hannibal smiled, moving down to bury his face between Will’s legs and nuzzle his hard cock through the shorts. The answering gasp and throb of Will made him hum against him. “If you have something to say Will, I suggest you do it now, before I am tempted to force it out of you.” 

Will gripped his hair, and let out a soft moan when Hannibal mouthed at him through the soft shorts. “God I just… Didn’t think this would happen in a bathroom..” He laughed softly, Hannibal's answering look making him blush harder. 

“You’ve thought about this, hm? Tell me,” Hannibal's fingers pushed past the shorts to dig dull nails into the supple flesh of one of Will’s cheeks. 

Will gasped, bucking against Hannibal's jaw, something like a whine escaping him when Hannibal gripped his hips to still him. “Ugh, yeah I.. god Hannibal please..” 

A wet spot in the man’s shorts was now visible where his cockhead leaked, and Hannibal didn’t think he’d ever appreciated a purchase more. 

He slowly peeled down the shorts, letting them rest under Will’s balls as his cock curled up and out, throbbing with need. 

“Go on, Will.” Hannibal chided, making the man huff before he traced his lips along the length of him. 

“H-ha… mmm.. yeah I’ve, well.. my old shorts have some uh- mmf! Memories..” He stuttered, Hannibal rewarding him by swallowing down around his head.

Will’s toes curled against cool tile as that mouth took him easily, and fuck, knowing the man probably gave good head and actually _feeling_ it were worlds apart. 

“God, please don’t make me...” But Hannibal was already stopped, Will buried in his throat, and the empath could scream in frustration. 

“Fuuuck, fine. I dreamt about this after, nng, Italy, okay? The catacombs and.. god, probably even other times…” Will would wonder if the omission was worth the head, when it also put that shit-eating grin on Hannibal’s face. 

However, Will quickly couldn’t wonder anything, because Hannibal was bobbing slowly on him, the wet sounds making him shudder. He hadn’t realized Hannibal had pushed him back until he leaned his head back to rest against the door. 

Blue eyes flickered down and caught a bloody gaze, and the look of possession on Hannibal’s face made him almost lose it on the spot. 

Then, Hannibal pulled off and hummed as he licked and lapped at the head, making him twitch as Will bit back a protest. 

He didn’t whine when Hannibal stood, despite his immense want to. 

“I would like you to shower, and lay on the bed, with just these on.” Hannibal smiled, toying with his waistband. 

Will breathed out hard, moving to cup the back of Hannibal’s neck and pull him down into another demanding kiss. Hannibal hummed, pressing him further into the door and kissing him with just as much need. Will licked into his mouth, and grinned at the salty taste of himself on the other’s tongue. He reached down to cup Hannibal through his slacks, and the way the man growled and rocked into the touch, Will knew at once Hannibal was right at that desperate edge with him. 

“Mm… okay,” He breathed, pulling from the kiss. Satisfied that he wasn’t the only one being put out for needing to shower. 

Will ended up on the bed, laying on his stomach with wet curls hanging over his forehead, now a little more relaxed with his pent up need having wound down. 

Glancing around, he saw that there were multiple tall candles burning on the side tables, surrounded by white and red flower petals, and other trappings that seemed to follow Hannibal wherever he went. Animal bones, small trimmings of thorny thickets, various beads. Will fought the urge to roll his eyes as Hannibal re-entered the room.

“If you make a display of me after we’ve only fucked once, I will come back to haunt your ass.” 

The harsh swat to his own ass had him jumping and gasping, moving to rub at the stinging cheek through his shorts as he glared at Hannibal. 

“Mind your tongue, before I am forced to mind it for you.” His tone was cool, but the glint in his eye was amused.  
Will crossed his arms under his head and raised his hips to sway his ass in the air. “Is that a threat, or a promise?”

A strong hand gripped his thigh right where it met his butt cheek and easily manhandled him so his hips hung off the edge of the bed, despite the small sound of surprise it ripped from Will. He jumped when he felt soft lips brush the shell of his ear. “If you feel possessed to be trite, I can think of much better uses of your mouth.” 

Will swallowed, his mouth filling with saliva at the many images Hannibal conjured up, but had no time to see them through before big hands were cupping his ass and making him moan softly. 

“You cannot imagine how long I’ve wanted this,” Hannibal murmured, seemingly more to himself, before agile fingers pushed under fabric and squeezed a bare cheek roughly. Will felt his cock twitch as he squirmed and blushed. 

“Please…” He murmured, hearing it as if someone else was saying it. Hannibal hummed in answer. 

“ **There** are your manners,” Will could feel the smile pressed against him as Hannbal tugged the fabric up his cheek to expose it, the shorts cupping his balls and cock tighter as he gripped the sheets. 

“Fuck,” Will whispered, jumping as Hannibal bit into his cheek, before kissing and- purring? against his skin. His thighs shook as the other cheek received the same treatment, and his hips moved to rut against the bed beneath him, seeking any sort of relief. 

Hannibal tutted softly and moved his palm under to cup Wills cock, a groan escaping him as the man pressed to stop his movements. 

“Hannibal-” Will started, already flustered, before his shorts were ripped down and cheeks spread, Hannibal's tongue laving at him as he gasped.

Will’s cock _ached,_ still partially trapped by the velvet nightmare he was wearing, and Hannibal growled softly as he gripped Will’s cheeks to the point of almost-pain, his tongue delving and making Will shudder and throb. 

The introduction of a fingertip alongside the tongue made Will melt, and he pressed his hips back encouragingly for the effort. Hannibal moved to kiss and nip at his asscheek as his finger pushed deeper. 

“Have you ever done this, Will?” He murmured, Will hearing it as a distant sound, the same with the pop of a bottle cap. 

“I- hng, not with someone like… Fuck, that’s cold.” He murmured, Hannibal chuckling softly as he spread lube over his entrance, before working his index back in. 

“Not with someone like me. A man, you mean?” Hannibal continued, and Will buried his face in the sheets as a blush ran up his neck and across his face, burning holes in the high points of his cheeks. Hannibal sounded entirely too put together. That somehow made him ache all the more.

“N-no, I’ve uh, experimented but, haa fuck… only alone.” Hannibal pushed on, hand smoothing down Will’s flank before moving back up to slap his cheek. Will gasped, then moaned as Hannibal pressed deeper. 

“Relax, Will. Close your eyes,” Hannibal murmured, and a shudder ran down Will’s spine for a completely different reason. 

~*~

_**Wade into the quiet of the stream.**_

Something in his chest caught, a jagged and broken thing, and his breath stuttered as he tried to push it down. Not now, not now, _**not now.**_

But he already saw the images behind his eyes, the blood flooding the kitchen, the pain that was distant and yet overwhelming still, that shattered look in Hannibal’s eyes.

“Will? Will.” Hannibal’s voice echoed, not fitting with the scenery of where the man laid his heart at Will’s feet, shattered. 

He glanced to Abigail, clutching his insides and frowning as he tried to make sense of it, the world moving as if suspended in time. Her eyes only reflected him back, soulless and empty.

“Will, come back to me.” He heard the thunder crashing outside, the rain pummeling the roof of the house as he slid to the floor. He wanted to reach out to Hannibal, clutch at his clothes and say… say what?

It didn't matter, because he was choking on blood, and swimming in darkness, being consumed by it. 

“I need you to tell me what you see.” 

“N-nothing, it's black I… god Hannibal I’m so sorry…”

“What’s your name?”

“Will, I’m Will Graham, I.. I dont know what day it is, or where i am… fuck, Hannibal, I’m so sorry.” He muttered into the darkness, the words echoing like a cave that went on forever. Failure and disappointment gutted him, spilled out of him and _how could it go wrong so fast?_

He shuddered, lost in the dark, before he was moved through it, and his feet found a floor. 

“Follow my voice,” He heard the darkness echo, walking forward, though he had no way of knowing if it was the correct direction. 

“Open your mouth for me,” The darkness asked, so sweetly a pang knocked through Will’s chest, and cold filled his mouth. He shivered again, recognized it was an ice cube, and ran his tongue along the edges of the melting shape. 

“That’s good, here.” The darkness encouraged, and then his fingers were carding through… fur. He gasped, clutching the fur lightly and moving to bury his face in the fuzzy void. Inhaling, he felt a rush of _dogshomesafety, safe, safe, safe._

His eyes fluttered, and looking down, he saw mottled light brown fur, and the wind rushed out of him in one breath. 

“Winston,” He sighed, the dog panting and nosing at Will’s jaw, a broken sound of a laugh pulling from his lips at the cold feeling. 

~*~

“Will,” A voice, so gentle, murmured quietly above him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Hannibal, crouched with his hand hovering over Will’s back. Blinking, Will found they were on the floor, Will on his knees, a few feet away from the bed. 

He frowned, looking between the bed and Hannibal. “What happened?”

Hannibal was closed off, emotions undetectable, even with Will meeting his gaze. “You had a flashback, I may have triggered you.”

“Oh,” Will frowned at the floor, before moving to look at Winston with a gritted jaw. He didn't know how to feel, or what to think. He blinked as his eyes stung, his vision swimming a little.

A blanket was being wrapped around him, and that seemed to make his sight worse. “Thanks, I…-”

“You may feel drained, I believe you should rest.” 

Something dropped in the pit of his stomach, like he failed at something, but he didn’t know what. 

He frowned at his fingers as they pushed through Winston’s fur. “I.. yeah.” The exhaustion quickly invaded the spaces that jagged feeling had cut into him. His head felt heavy, and the world was quickly losing its correct axis. 

“I’m going to help you to your bed,” He heard Hannibal say, and he nodded, helping as much as he could to push up and move down the hall.

Sat on the bed, Will was quick to reach out and tug Hannibal in by his slacks. He pressed his nose against the man’s bare stomach, and he closed his eyes as he tried to not shudder against him again.

“Will, it’s okay.” Hannibal murmured softly after a moment, gently stroking Will’s curls and making him quake all the harder. 

“Don’t go, please.” He whispered, hardly even audible to his own ears. He wasn’t sure who he was asking, this Hannibal, or the one from years ago.

“I think not even death could drag me away.” He murmured, and Will quietly let the tears stinging his eyes fall over.

Hannibal leaned down, pressing his nose and lips into Will’s hair. “Allow me to get you a glass of water, and I will join you.” 

Will’s jaw flexed, and he took a deep breath, before nodding as he moved to lay back on the bed.

It felt like mere seconds, before Hannibal was back and guiding him to sit up next to him. Wordlessly, Will took the glass and drank most of it in a few still moments.

Hannibal gently took the glass back and set it on his side of the table, before he leaned back and positioned Will with his head on his chest. 

Time floated like that for a long time, the only thing keeping Will anchored was the steady _babum babum babum_ of Hannibal’s heart. 

Slowly, the broken glass feeling receded, and his body began to come back down to earth. A deep breath from him marked the last of the feeling tapering off. 

“Very good,” He heard Hannibal murmur, and Will shook his head as he rolled his eyes behind his eyelids. 

“What a mess,” Will muttered, moving to twist the ties of Hannibal's sleep pants between his fingers. He could’ve sworn the man was not gone long enough for a change, but Will wasn't ever wholly correct on timing.

There were moments of just breathing between them, and Will wasn’t sure if Hannibal was giving him space, or unsure on what to say.

Gentle fingers traced the arch of Will’s shoulder, and Will bit his lip.

“Do you know who Franz Kafka was?” Hannibal said softly, still tracing shapes into Will’s skin. Will frowned at Hannibal’s feet, the name conjuring up images of giant cockroaches, and maddening worlds.

“Metamorphosis, right?”

Hannibal hummed his assent. “He was a Jewish man that lived during World War 2. He wrote a short story called Das Schweigen der Sirenen, or ‘The Silence of the Sirens’. 

Will moved his head to blink up at Hannibal, the man offering him a gentle smile as he traced the scar on Will’s cheek, before continuing.

“He wrote on Ulysses as he journeyed to confront the Sirens. He altered the story to say that Ulysses filled just his ears with wax, before being tied to the mast of his ship, so he would not jump into the sea.” 

Will pursed his lips, imagining a man with off-white slick dripping down his shirt as he clung to ragged chains while a storm brewed above him, churning the dark waves far below wildly. His face still stoic, strung up on a makeshift cross. He looked a lot like Hannibal.

“When he did reach them, however, they did not sing. Kafka argues that the wax and chains were no match for the Sirens, but they only did not sing because of the look on Ulysses’ face, as he thought of his resolve.”

Will chuckled, tracing lightly along Hannibal’s bare chest. “Instead of a kicking and screaming man, he was content with determination.”

Hannibal smiled, moving to brush a stray hair from Will’s face. “After they saw the look on Ullysses’ face, they no longer wanted to lure men to their deaths; they fell in love, and wanted nothing more than to bask in the power they witnessed.”

Will placed his chin on Hannibal’s chest thoughtfully, horrifically beautiful creatures hissing as they breached the surface of the water and easily hid back under its waves in front of the ship. One stopping short as the ship approached, blinking in awe at the man that ignored them high above. 

“He changed them, just with determination?” Will asked.

“Kafka pointed out that their silence was more deadly than their song, as the pride of having beaten them no one could resist. He ponders that Ulysses may have heard their silence, as sly as he was, and powered through just the same; but that that was something beyond human understanding.” 

“Between him and the gods.” Will smiled, and Hannibal twirled a frizzy curl between his fingertips. “Am I a siren, changed by the look in your eye?” 

“We have changed each other, in many ways. I don’t think either of us could be solely recognized as either Ulysses or the sirens.” Something glinted behind Hannibal’s eyes. “Though I know I have been tempted by your song many times.”

“Pulled you into the sea, and changed forever by your resolve.” 

Hannibal leaned down to capture his lips in a soft kiss, just the smallest brush of lips. “Just as I am by yours.” He murmured, and a vein of conviction shot through Will’s chest like a lightning bolt. 

He moved up, straddling Hannibal’s hips as he captured him in another kiss. This one quickly toppling into a heady need that had Hannibal gripping Will’s hips softly. 

“Will,” Hannibal breathed when he finally was free of Will’s sinuous mouth, the empath already sucking greedy kisses and harsh bites into the older man’s throat. The sound was meant to be warning, but it lacked discipline, and it urged Will on only more. 

“No,” Will growled when Hannibal gripped his hips to stop him. “You don’t get to start treating me like a teacup, not now.” He huffed, more emotion bleeding into his voice than he would’ve liked. 

Suddenly, Hannibal flipped them, and pinned Will’s hands above his head. “Will, this is not about being fragile with you. You suffered a major flashback, and need time to recover from it.” The red in Hannibal’s eyes was determined, but Will huffed his chest in defiance.

“Let _me_ decide what I need, Hannibal.” He growled, and there was a brief moment, the two of them staring at each other head on, before Hannibal shifted, and looked down to Will thoughtfully. 

“What do you need, Will?” He asked, and Will sighed softly. 

“You. Please,” Will breathed, and Hannibal was on him in an instant. He moved to kiss him roughly, the empath wrapping his legs around Hannibal's waist, shorts and pajama bottoms the only layers separating them. 

Will scrambled with Hannibal’s waistband, huffing when he could hardly move it as the other rocked down against him. “Mmmf, off. Now.” 

Hannibal chuckled, pulling back to push the cloth down his thighs, flipping onto his side and sliding them off with a swoop of a long arm. For once, he let the clothing fall to the floor, before moving to retrieve -another- bottle of lube from a different bedside drawer. 

Will blinked in amazement. “I don’t think I could have as much grace in a lifetime as you have in your pinkie toe.” He didn’t ask if Hannibal had lube in every drawer of the house, part of him believed the man could be prepared for _anything_. 

Hannibal’s smile was warm as he moved back up the bed. “All with practice, my dear boy.” 

Will rolled his eyes, and grinned at the pinch to his thigh it got him. 

“You like me rude and graceless.” He teased, arching when Hannibal pressed flush against his ass, pink velvet chafing his inner thighs as his lower back was raised from the bed. 

“I like you debauched, and demanding.” Hannibal amended, smirking as he tugged the shorts, just enough so they held Will’s upper thighs together. Will’s legs rested easily against his shoulders. 

Will didn’t realize his lip was caught between his teeth until he caught Hannibal staring at it. He blushed, before smirking and licking his bottom lip for effect. The hunger in Hannibal's eyes was a glorious reward.

“This won’t be as I wanted it,” Hannibal started, and Will nearly growled at him, even as he felt lube spread across his entrance. 

“Hannibal- ah!” He gasped, feeling the man’s digit slide up to its second knuckle inside him. He clutched the sheets, stomach flexing before he pressed down against the finger. 

“Fuck,” He breathed, looking up to Hannibal, who looked positively enraptured. 

His next look was a question, and Will nodded, his cock already curling up and throbbing against his stomach. 

Hannibal hummed as he fucked Will slowly, mouthing and kissing his thighs and calves. Soon he slipped in a second finger, and Will suddenly gasped as he brushed that sweet spot inside him. 

“Oh fuck..” Would be all Will could get out, before Hannibal was fucking up against the spot, and Will’s back arched at the sensation as he moaned. “Fuck! Hannibal,” He breathed, shivering when he scissored his fingers, stretching him further and further. The slight pain easily chased by the full feeling and those blissful taps against that sweet spot. 

The third finger added had a steady pressure on the spot, and that combined with the push and pull of fullness, made Will’s breaths escape him rapidly as he struggled to not fall apart at the feeling. Glancing to Hannibal again, the knowing look on his face told him he knew exactly what he was doing to Will. 

“God, you- fuck!” His eyes fluttered, and his back tensed as his orgasm struck him fiercely and without warning. He shuddered, fingers flexing against the bedding as he was overwhelmed with and drowned by pleasure, body strung tight like a bow as he came across his chest.

The fall back to reality was a plummet, and Hannibal kissed Will’s inner thigh softly as his muscles went lax against him. He decidedly did not release the smaller man’s legs as Will panted. 

“You are _captivating_.” Hannibal breathed into his skin, and Will shivered as he realized Hannibal was still buried in him.

“D-don't stop.” He breathed, and Hannibal slowly withdrew his fingers, Will gripping the sheets at the empty feeling.

“Never, my love.” Hannibal smiled, moving to finally pull Will’s legs free from the shorts. The limbs quickly wrapped around his waist as he leaned up to catch Will in a slow kiss.

It took everything in Will not to melt under the pressure of Hannibal on him, but then the man was pressing against his entrance, and filling him, and Will gasped as he buried his face in his neck. 

It was Hannibal’s turn to moan as he gripped Will, holding his hips and giving them moments to adjust; but god, Will’s tight heat was engulfing. 

Hannibal’s eyes were closed as he pressed his face against Will’s shoulder, only flickering open when Will’s hips rolled down to take more of him. Always pushing for more, always _greedy_ for it. 

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken this aloud until Will moaned and throbbed around him in response, and it was all the encouragement Hannibal needed. He rolled his hips, moving to breathe into Will’s ear and nibble the shell. 

Will clutched onto him, rocking down to meet his thrusts until their skin was slapping with a steady rhythm, his movements more limber with an orgasm already under his belt. Will’s answering sounds with every other thrust were high and reedy, any reservations tossed to the wind long ago. 

Hannibal breathed against his shoulder, mouth watering familiarly, and he lapped and kissed the sweat away from the others skin. 

“Ha… Do it.” He moaned, making Hannibal throb as he slammed into Will, bottoming out and rocking over and over. Hannibal’s dull front teeth scraped the skin of his shoulder. 

“Fuck! Hannibal, bite me.” Will demanded. The slapping, the sweet smell of them surrounding him, and Will’s words all culminating into a drug specifically mixed for him. A growl ripped from his throat as he gripped bruises into Will’s thighs, taking what belonged to him as he clamped his jaw around Will’s shoulder and pushed deep, groaning as he came and shuddered over the other. 

Blood filled his mouth, and he hummed as he swallowed and licked at it softly, allowing himself to glutton as they floated in their pleasure. 

Soon Hannibal pulled out, collapsing next to Will and panting softly. Looking over, he saw the empath had his arm thrown over his eyes, blood trickling down his shoulder and into the sheets. Further down, cum was smeared across his belly, and a spared glance confirmed Will was not the only one wearing it.

Hannibal smiled to himself at the mark. He would smell of Will even after a shower, and it would bring him no better joy to. 

Will hummed, only coming to when Hannibal stood up, and came back from the bathroom with a small first aid kit in tow. 

“Mmm… how much time do I have left, doc?” Will smiled as the case clicked open, hissing softly when an alcohol wipe stung the teeth marks in his skin. 

Hannibal’s smile was small, private. Just for Will. “The stakes are high here, we may need to operate.” 

Will sighed as a patch of gauze was applied to the wound. “Alright, just leave the kidneys, if you’ll be so kind.” 

Hannibal gave him a look that ventured between amusement and a challenge. “Are you offering your heart, then?”

Will's smile was small, and private, just the same. “If you’ll have it.”

~ 

A sigh escaped Will’s lips as he tilted his head to the sun. Bare chest warmed as his feet hung in the cool water, splashing up against his shins with every smack against the boat. 

When he opened his eyes, he glanced to the man who sat beside him, maroon eyes drinking him in contentedly. A flicker of an art museum danced in his head, as Will smiled softly back at him. 

“You’re staring,” He teased, moving to nudge the man with his elbow softly. Hannibal simply chuckled, his hand moving to squeeze Will’s bare thigh. 

“I have something to stare at.” He put simply, and Will rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

He laid back, sighing softly as he folded an arm behind his head. “Who knew the Chesapeake Ripper to be such a romantic?” He smirked, squinting up at the other. 

“Well, I did hear he was described as one for theatrics, I imagine romance isn’t far from his repertoire either.” 

Will chuckled, humming softly as Hannibal’s hand on his thigh moved up slowly. “Heard he took the crazy bastard who said that over a cliff with him.” 

Agile fingers toyed with the soft pink velvet that stretched over his hips. “They’d slain a dragon, the ending needed a just as dramatic flair.” Hannibal hummed, rubbing small circles into his hips.

Will sighed softly, content, like a sunbathing cat. 

“Like a fairy tail, hm? Thought the villains were meant to be defeated in the end.” A small chuckle escaped him when Hannibal nibbled his inner thigh, hand moving up to lace in sun bleached brown lochs. 

“They all died there, what came out of it were unrecognizable beings.” Hannibal breathed, his nose brushing Will’s skin just above the shorts gently. 

“Mm, they were transformed.” He added, looking down at the other. 

“Evolved into something neither of their worlds were ready for.” Hannibal smiled, and the boat bobbed and swayed, content to hold two monsters that had become one.

**Author's Note:**

> Works referenced in this:
> 
> [ The Essence of Alan Watts: Death pt 2 ](https://www.wisdom2be.com/files/2fd30fc6f17ebad08eace7ece6f52684-127.html)
> 
> A/N: This was a pretty interesting read. I found it from a song called [Getsomerest/sleepwell by quickly, quickly. ](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6j_3MuyEMt0)
> 
> [ The Silence of the Sirens by Franz Kafka ](https://blogs.baruch.cuny.edu/rodriguezannotation/?page_id=17)
> 
> Please leave kudos and let me know what you thought in the comments!
> 
> I am currently looking for a beta reader for other hannibal fics i’m writing! please message me on tumblr asightea if you’re interested ^^


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